A Thousand Years
by EndlessDaydreaming
Summary: She loved Christmas. Even until the very end, she loved it. I, however, hated it. For many, many reasons, I hated it.


**A Thousand Years**

**by: Endlessdaydreaming**

**A/N: This story ignores most of the last book.**

**For enhanced reading, listen to Christina Perri's "A Thousand Years." This song literally made me cry, and is of course, the inspiration for this story. Also an inspiration is the music video for Katy Perry's "The One That Got Away," which I also cried to. **

**To PeriwinkleMoonlight, toavoidoconversation, and Orange Coyote: Merry Christmas, loves, and I'll love you all for a thousand years and more. Thanks for putting up with me, and making me feel like I'm worth something, for cheering me up and nudging me on. This one's for you guys. xoxo**

* * *

><p><strong>~.o.~<strong>

"**The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen." **

**- Elisabeth Ross **

**~.o.~**

She loved this day.

She loved how the world would turn into a beautiful white, how the winter air would kiss her skin, how flutters of snow would dance around in the air, how lights would light up every house, and songs about reindeers and a fat man in red would circulate all over town – she loved everything.

Even until the very end, she loved this day.

I, however, hated it.

"Draco?" her soft voice calls from what sounds like a few rooms over.

"In the library, love," I call out, as I take one last look at the snow outside from one of the looming windows of the room.

Before I even have the chance to look back and watch her enter the room, her cold arms are around my waist. The cold sinks through the many layers of my clothing, and I shudder.

She was always cold.

"What are you doing all alone here, moping?" she asks, her forehead resting on my back.

My hands intertwine around hers, trying to squeeze some warmth into them. For a moment, I feel a sinking feeling in my chest, as if something just shattered. But I brush it away, focusing instead on trying to warm up the freezing hands in mine.

"Hermione, you're freezing cold. I'll go fetch you some gloves-"

Her hands tighten in mine. "No, thanks, Draco, for the millionth time." She nudges me to turn around and face her, and she slips her hands from mine to cup my cheeks gently. She smiles, her beautiful brown eyes lighting up. "I like the cold."

I give her a hesitant smile. As always, she is beautiful. Until all this time, she is still beautiful. Her long, warm brown curls cascade over her shoulders in elegant waves, her satin red robes hugging her figure perfectly. Her porcelain skin glows, almost as much as the sapphire pendant that gleams over her throat. Despite the bags under her eyes, and her almost too-thin figure, she is beautiful.

Always.

I pull her to me, embracing her. Once again, I feel that sinking feeling in my chest. And once again, I brush it away.

"Merry Christmas, Draco," she says softly.

"Merry Christmas, love," I whisper back to her.

We stay in each others' arms for a few more moments when she breaks away, a huge smile on her face.

"Enough moping; it's time to celebrate!" she says brightly.

Before I know it, she is dragging me out of the room, skipping and laughing.

"Slow down, love; this old boy can't keep up!" I joke with her.

I can't help but smile as she leads me to the living room, the Christmas Tree she had insisted that she decorate herself standing tall and proud by the corner. Numerous boxes in various shapes and sizes sat below the tree, their wrappers shining and glinting under the fireplace's warmth.

"I know how much you love to open your gifts, but Christmas breakfast always comes first," she grinned at me, pulling me further into the Manor. We leave the living room and enter the dining room. The aromatic smell of food hit me immediately before I could see them. The table was filled with many dishes, most of them I could recognize as her favorites.

"Did you make all this yourself?" I smile at her, already knowing the answer. House elves have long since been freed from the Manor – how could they not, with her persistence of setting the 'poor creatures' free? There was no one else but I who could have helped her to make this feast, and I've been in the library all morning. She had exiled me out of the kitchen, after all, just as she did every year, to make the necessary preparations.

"Of course," she says proudly.

I give her a quick peck on her forehead. "Thank you, love."

"You're welcome," she smiles. "Now, let's eat!"

I lead her to her seat, pull the chair out for her, and tuck her in. I seat myself, and I look up to see her elbows on the table, her chin resting on her intertwined fingers. She looks at me expectantly.

"Dig in," she smiles. "It's all for you."

I give her a soft smile back, and do as she says. The meal is the same as every year; delicious as always. With every bite, I feel her love for me, the love she poured out in preparing all of it. And even if I cannot possibly eat all of the food alone, I do so anyway. Even if I am full, about to explode, I eat them all.

"Thanks love, that was delicious," I say to her, smiling.

"I'm glad you liked it," she replies with her own smile.

"So what's next in line?" I ask her, knowing very well the answer but letting her have her fun. It's the same every year, after all.

"Gifts," she smiles, big and wide. She takes hold of my hand, and I am so used to her freezing hands that I manage not to jump as we make contact. She leads me back to the living room, sitting me on the couch in order to retrieve my gifts one by one.

"Oh, let's have this first! It's from Harry and Ginny," she says happily, handing me a thin box of red and gold wrappings.

I delicately remove the wrapping, going slowly, until she can't contain her excitement anymore and tears the wrappings off for me. I chuckle – this happens _every_ year.

"Why must you always go so slow, Draco," she sighs, playfully punching me in the shoulder.

"Why must you always go so _fast_, Hermione," I joke, grinning.

She hands me the Potters' gift: a leather photograph book. I hesitate in opening it, but she snuggles up to me, nudging me on. With slightly trembling hands, I flip the book open.

The first picture is of she and I together, in our 7th year Hogwarts robes, shaking hands. Shiny Head Boy and Girl badges are pinned on our chests. And while I had on a look awkwardness and hesitation, she was smiling brightly and encouragingly. It was the picture of the day Hogwarts rose from the ashes, the day everyone decided to put Voldemort past their lives and unite, Mudblood, Pureblood, or Half-blood.

It was also the day that Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy first met again out of the battle field.

"Draco, you were scared out of your wits," Hermione giggles.

"I was _not_," I retort. "I was just hesitant. You were smiling so innocently that I was wondering if you might suddenly hex me."

"I actually was," she stated simply. "Supposed to hex you, I mean."

I blink at her, surprised. "So why didn't you?"

She shrugged, her head resting on my shoulder. "I decided to let bygones be bygones. Voldemort was gone, it was a new era; I decided to give you a chance first."

I kissed her head lightly. "Thank Merlin that you did."

"Mmm," she smiled. "Or else I would have missed out on you." 

"We wouldn't want that happening, would we?" I grin.

I flip to the next few pages, seeing picture after picture of our time spent as 7th year Hogwarts students. I see my past flash before my eyes, to days where I slowly came in to terms with my love for Hermione, until the last picture of the book: our wedding.

She was smiling, ever so beautifully. Her curls were pinned up, showing off her creamy neck, her eyes shining like she was the happiest woman in the world. And I was there, right beside her, an arm around her waist, smiling like I was the happiest man in the world.

And I was.

Below the picture, a date was written: _December 25__th__, 2000_

I turn to look at her, and she is still the same as in the photograph: beautiful as always. The same shining eyes, the same brown curls, the same _everything_. Perhaps the only difference is her now thin frame, and tired eyes.

She hands me another gift. "From the Weasleys," she says, smiling, as her eyes suddenly cloud. She bites her lip, and I know she is trying to keep herself from crying.

I bring her to me, embracing her. I know that even after all this time, the death of one of her best friends, Ron Weasley, in the hands of Death Eaters during the Final Battle saddens her.

She gives me a small nod, indicating she is okay. I open the gift, and inside it lies a thick book - a book of Muggle Medicine.

"The Weasleys have always been supportive of your passion in Muggle Medicine, haven't they, Draco?" Hermione hums approvingly.

"More so than Father or Mother ever was, that's for sure," I say a bit bitterly.

I know it's unfair to hold that against Mother and Father; they were brought up as Muggle-haters since their childhood, and no matter what they will stick to that belief. That is understandable. It was good enough that they accepted Hermione as my wife.

But my views are different now. I know..I know painfully well that Magic cannot solve everything, contrary to what my parents think. I know that there are some things in this world that are better off dealt with the old-fashioned Muggle way, no short-cuts of Magic, lest there be dire consequences.

I know all that.

And so for years, I have been a Muggle doctor, trying to get used to a life where Magic did not rule dominant. The Manor reeks of medicine; _medicine, _and not _potions_.

I have always loved potions. I was known to be exceptionally good in them during my Hogwarts years. And maybe it is that fact that brought me to my initial career choice many years ago: a healer. But healers use magic, and again, I know that magic cannot solve everything. So I shifted my focus on Muggle Medicine since that realization. For many years now, I have been doing my research. And for many years, it has yet to be completed.

Hermione hands me gift after gift, all of which I open and set aside in a blur. Once all the gifts are opened, we sit together in front of the fire for awhile, her head in my lap as I stroke her hair.

"Draco, do you remember that song you used to sing me whenever you were trying to comfort me?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Sing it for me, please."

"What, now?"

"Yes."

"But I haven't sung in years! My voice is terrible."

"Rubbish! Go on, Draco!"

"No." 

"Please?" 

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"No."

"Fine," she sighs, laughing. She stands up, pulling me with her. She keeps my hand in hers as she leads me to the ballroom.

The Manor's ballroom is beautiful. It is usually where parties are held. The ceiling is beyond reachable and extends high above our heads like the sky. In place of the walls are mirrors, strategically placed to suit the vanity of its partying occupants. The white marble floor matches the golden chandeliers, and everything is a vision of gold and white.

"Time for our usual dance?" I ask, smiling at the woman in my arms.

She nods, smiling. The music starts as she gently places her hands on my shoulders, and I recognize it as our wedding song. The wedding song she had picked, and that she had cried to when she first listened to it. The song she loved to sing, her favorite song in the world. The song she'd sing to me as a lullaby, the she said she would have sung to our children, if only we had any.

_Heart beats fast_

_Colors and promises_

_How to be brave_

_How can I love _

_when I'm afraid to fall_

I place my hands on her waist as we sway to the music. I look into her eyes, and my heart breaks a little. She looks so tired – tired and in pain.

"You know," her soft voice snaps me away from my thoughts. "This song reminds me a lot of you."

My heart constricts. I know what she means. But I ask her anyway. "How so?"

She tilts her head to the side, as if examining me closely. "Remember when I told you I was falling in love with you?"

Of course I do. We were in the graduation ball, dancing just like this, when she said it. I remember the blush on her cheeks at she confessed, her head slightly bowed. And I remember saying..

"And you said that we couldn't be together because you didn't deserve me, that you didn't know how to love?" she continued.

I simply nod, as my mind continues to play the past. She was wearing a white gown back then, one that made her look more and more like an angel. Her hair hung loose in big curls, eyes shining more than ever. As always, she was beautiful.

"And _you_ said," I continued, "that I was just afraid of love."

She nodded, smiling, happy that I remembered. "Was I right?"

I chuckle, and kiss her forehead lightly. "You're always right; even when you're wrong - you're right."

She giggles and punches me on the shoulder playfully. "Seriously, Draco."

I laugh. "Of course you were right. I wouldn't have kissed you then if you weren't right. I wouldn't have taken the chance of being brave. How did you know, anyway? I didn't even know it myself until you said so."

"People have this weird ability to be the last to know everything," she laughed. "It's just that...I know it was hard to be in your shoes, Draco. And I thought that..maybe if you were raised differently, you wouldn't be such a jerk back then."

I laugh at that. "Yeah, I guess I was a jerk."

"You _guess?_" she exclaims, laughing.

"Alright, alright; I was a jerk. Happy?" I laugh with her.

_But watching you stand alone_

_All of my doubt_

_suddenly goes away somehow_

We settle down from all the laughing, and I pull her closer to me.

"You always seem to know me better than I even know myself. Even way back then," I tell her.

"It's just that I know there's a good in everyone," she smiles.

"And that's why I love you."

_One step closer_

She smiles, cupping my cheeks and giving me a light kiss.

_I have died everyday waiting for you_

_Darling don't be afraid I have loved you_

_for a thousand years_

_I love you for a thousand more_

"You're beautiful," I tell her.

"_You_, Draco, are beautiful."

I snort a bit at that.

"No, Draco; I mean it. You're beautiful. You've suffered so much, went through so much, that you have a different understanding of life. Like a different perspective, in a sense. You know how to appreciate things, know how to be sensitive to people who might be going through the same – you're beautiful, inside and out. And I love you for that."

I pull her to me, closer, as if there is still space.

"You, Hermione, are more beautiful. My life wouldn't be the same without you. You _are_ my life."

_Time stands still_

_Beauty in all she is_

_I will be brave_

_I will not let anything take away_

_what's standing in front of me_

She pulls away lightly, and I wonder if I have said something wrong. She takes my hand, and leads me out into the garden. The snow is lightly falling, and everything is white. She leads me to the back, to a large oak tree covered in snow.

I halt, bringing her to a stop as well. I know why she has brought me here.

"No," I whisper.

"Draco..."

"NO!" I say firmly.

"Draco, you have to accept this-" 

I pull away from her grip. Not this. Anything but this. I'm not yet ready. Not now. Please not now.

She pulls me to her and wipes my eyes. It is only then I realize that I am crying.

"Draco," she calls lightly to me.

I look at her. I look at her deep brown eyes through the tears. I look at her hollowed cheeks, her bony frame, the bags under her eyes.

She is tired.

"Draco, I want..I want you to move on."

_Every breath_

_Every hour has come to this_

I shake my head, the warm tears streaming down my cheeks. "No."

I know I am being selfish. I know she is suffering. She is at her limit. But still. I can't. I just can't.

"Don't leave me," I whisper as my legs give way.

I kneel on the snow, barely noticing the cold. Her arms are around me, my head to her chest. And once again, my heart drops. It happens every time my ear is to her chest. Every time I don't hear something that I should.

"Hermione," I moan, crying. I clutch her arms. I don't want to let her go. "Don't leave me."

"Draco, look at me," she says softly.

Hesitantly, I lift my gaze to her. She wipes away the onslaught of tears, and kisses me. Every emotion she feels is poured into the kiss, and I hold her tighter.

She is saying goodbye.

"No," I pull away, holding her hands tightly to me. "Hermione, please," I beg.

"Draco, I love you. You know that. I want you to be happy; to have a life once again. Enough of..of _this_," she says, gesturing to herself.

"No," my voice cracks.

I cannot imaging a life without her. My time with her felt s incredibly short – it wasn't fair.

"Draco, please." It is her turn to beg.

I shake my head, crying, unable to say anything else. I can't. I just can't.

She pulls away from me, and I try to grasp her back.

But I can't.

Horrified, I try to touch her, try to bring her back to me, to hold her, but my fingers just slip right through.

"NO!" I cry, frantically trying to feel her skin on my fingertips.

She smiles sadly at me, her skin glowing a faint blue.

"I'm at my limit, Draco," she says.

"No, please – I -" I can't say anymore. I just cry.

A cold wind slides across my cheek. I know it is her hand caressing it.

"You've made me proud, Draco. For what you've been trying to do. I hope you continue your research."

"I'm sorry," I cry. "I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have made that potion, and let you drink it. I'm sorry!"

"Shhh, love. Draco, it's okay. You didn't know. You thought it would cure me, didn't you?"

I nod frantically. She needed to understand. Before it was too late, she needed to understand.

"Then it's okay. Besides, it's for the greater good – now you're close to finding the real cure. Save lives, Draco."

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT SAVING THEIR LIVES IF I CAN'T EVEN SAVE YOURS!" I shout, crying.

She shakes her head, smiling sadly. "But you _have_ saved mine, Draco. When Ron died..I didn't know how I would live without him. But you..you came along. And I've never been happier. Even if our _real_ time together was brief, I was happy."

She embraces me; I only feel the cold intensify as an indication of where her arms are. "I love you, Draco. I have loved you a thousand years, and I'll love you a thousand more. I'll wait for you; but you need to go save lives first," she smiles.

I shake my head. My throat closes up on me, and all I could so is sob. I try one last time to hold her, to feel her skin, to reassure me of her existence – nothing.

I look at her, one last time. "I'm sorry I've kept you here."

She shakes her head. "No. It's alright. You needed me. But you don't need me anymore, Draco. You're stronger now. So please, stop isolating yourself. It's Christmas! This is my gift to you. It's time you stepped out of the house and talk to people, not just write letters."

Her warm eyes look into mine. She rests her forehead on mine, hands caressing my cheeks. "I love you Draco. Thank you."

I close my eyes as she kisses me, the cold lingering on my lips as she pulls away.

When I open my eyes again, she is removing the sapphire gem from her neck, dropping it to the ground.

"It's not goodbye, Draco. Only farewell. I'll always be with you; I'll never leave you. I'll be in here," she says, pointing to my heart. "I love you – for a thousand years and more," she smiles.

With that, she is gone.

I feel myself tremble. Immediately, I feel the emptiness in my chest, just like I did many years ago when she first left the world. I take the sapphire gem, and stand, staggering to the three stone markers underneath the oak tree.

I stop in front of the oldest one. Kissing the gem, I place it right in front of the stone marker that read:

_Hermione Malfoy nee Granger_

_Loved for a thousand years and more_

_September 19, 1979 – December 25, 2001_

I've always hated this day.

As a child, it only reminded me of how my parents could buy me every gift in the world but not love me. As a single man, it only brought me loneliness where others had joy. As a married man, it brought me joy for one day, bringing me to come to love it in my own wedding, but forcing me to hate it once again when one year after, the love of my life died in my own hands.

I enter the Manor, the Manor that has long since been empty of any other human life except for me. I enter my study, where books upon books piled up against each other, and flasks of various liquids and herbs stood. I want to throw them all away, to break them and smash them into pieces -

"_Save lives_," her voice rings in my mind.

I couldn't save hers. I thought I was good enough in potions to cure her. But magic has its limits. Magic cannot cure human diseases. It's why we Wizards still have bad eyesight.

Magic still couldn't cure cancer.

I walk out of the study and into the ballroom, where we had danced. The music still played, and I stared at myself in the mirror. An old man, one with graying and thinning hair looked back at me. It's been so many years since I first received the Resurrection Stone as a gift. Many, many years since I first used it, as well.

And yet, even the Resurrection Stone has its limits. Even the stone cannot save her.

But she had said she was happy. And I guess that is all that counts. She is resting up there, hopefully with Mother and Father. I was alone in the Manor once again.

"_Please stop isolating yourself_," her voice echoes in my mind.

I realize I haven't left the house ever since the Resurrection Stone brought her back to me. Food or ingredients would always come in parcels from the Potters; I didn't need anything else. They used to check up on me, trying to force themselves into my wards; I never let them in.

No one could see her. They couldn't know that I had the resurrection stone; especially since I myself do not know who sent it to me in the Christmas of 2002.

I look at myself in the mirror one last time. I raked my graying hair back with a hand, and with a blink I apparated to the Potters'.

* * *

><p>"Oh my god – Draco!"<p>

Ginny Weasley flung herself at me as fast as her wobbly legs could manage. I wheezed a bit, having the wind knocked out of me.

"You finally went out of hiding," joked Harry Potter.

"Well, I-" I grasped for words to say, things to explain, but nothing came to mind.

"I already know," says Harry.

"What?" I ask, astonished.

"I know why you..um..locked yourself up in that house. It was because you had..company," Harry said, trying to sound vague.

His wife eyed him a bit. "Well, obviously you two know something I don't, so I'll just go make you some coffee while you catch up." She left the room, whistling.

Harry motioned me to sit, as he did the same.

"Well. I know that you have The Stone," he said bluntly.

I blink at him. "How did you know?"

"Because I was the one who sent it to you."

I blink even more. "But why?"

"Because Hermione asked me to."

"Wait. _What_?"

"Before she died, she told me that you were going to need her for a bit longer. So she told me to send it to you a year after she died."

"But the potion I gave her was the one that killed her, how could she have known-"

"Draco. Potion or no potion, she would have died. She knew that."

"So she didn't believe I could have cured her?"

"She knew that Magical concoctions didn't cure inner diseases of Muggle kind."

"Then why didn't she just say so? That way I didn't-"

"She did tell you. You didn't listen. And anyway, she wanted you to realize it on your own."

"But I spent a long time blaming myself, thinking I was the one who killed her-"

"Potion or no potion, she would have died. She knew that. At least because of what happened, you pursued Muggle Medicine. She wanted you to figure things out by yourself, that Magic isn't always the solution to everything. But at the same time, she didn't want to leave you just yet, so she told me to send you The Stone. Her sickness is well-known in the Muggle World Draco. It's well-known because it's incurable. Leukemia isn't something that can be cured my Muggles or by Magic.

But if you're here, then I'm assuming that she..left..and I'm assuming that you're close to finding the cure."

"She told me she wanted me to save lives."

Harry just nodded.

* * *

><p>Back in the garden of the Manor, I sat outside in the snow, in front of her grave, the Resurrection Stone and a fresh batch of flowers in front of me.<p>

"Happy Christmas, love. And Happy Anniversary. I'll love you for a thousand years – and more. Wait for me."

I blink, and when I open my eyes, she is in front of me, smiling. I stand in front of her, caressing her cheek. And for a moment there, I could feel her skin.

"You are my sunshine," I sing to her. "My only sunshine."

She smiles.

"You make me happy, when skies are grey."

My voice cracks. Warm tears flow against my cheeks.

"You'll never know, dear, how much I love you."

She leans to me, and we kiss.

When I open my eyes, she is gone.

_So please don't take my sunshine away._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Happy Christmas, loves. **

**P.S. PeriwinkleMoonlight: I don't think this made you cry, so I guess I lost the challenge :)) Ah well. Yes, folks, this was a challenge from her, but also because I'm not feeling too preppy this Christmas. I hope you guys are, though. **

**Best wishes and all the love this Christmas! xoxo**


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